#loki fics

[loki--fics]

stardust - part seven

loki × reader

content warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, strong language, cancer, illness

word count: 2,143

The tower was quieter than usual.

It had been weeks since the confrontation in the lounge, weeks since the flames, the words, the wounds. In that time you had retreated to your room like a ghost retreating from the world, leaving behind only charred carpet and questions that no one dared to ask.

No except Loki.

Now, he stood outside your door, fingers hovering in mid air, poised to knock but hesitating, uncertain. He'd passed through this hall more times than he cared to admit the past few weeks, always intending to knock, but never quite finding the nerve to. Tonight, though, was different. He'd been sitting in his room, a book resting open in his lap, the same page staring up at him for nearly half an hour, but he hadn't processed a single word.

As his eyes scanned the same paragraph for the seventh time, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. No matter how many times he tried to distract himself, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. The way your voice had cracked, the enchanting flames that danced up your arms, the look in your eyes that hadn't come from anger alone, but grief, deep and suffocating.

And the way you'd defended him, of all people, like your life had depended on it.

He'd eventually snapped the book shut and stood, pacing his room as his thoughts raced. Damn it all, He thought.

Minutes later he was standing outside your door, poised to knock but hesitating. "This is absurd," He muttered, but he couldn't escape the nagging tightness of not knowing. He needed to see you, needed to know why. Why did you defend him like that? Why did he care?

It's late, He tried to reason with himself. You're probably sleeping. This should wait.

But for some unknown reason, he couldn't bring himself to walk away. "Damn it all," He repeated as he finally knocked, harder than he meant to.

"Go away." Your voice was muffled, but clear enough to be understood. Too bad Loki was never good at taking orders.

He took a breath and, against all better judgement, pushed the door open, stepping into your room. You were curled up under a blanket in bed, facing away from the door, a half full mug of cold tea and plate of barely-touched food sitting on your bedside table. The room was dimly lit by amber sconces on the walls, and heavy velvet curtains coloured a deep, forest green were pulled closed, blocking out the view of the city from the window.

Loki let his eyes wander the room as the door shut behind him with a soft click. The air had the faint scent of citrus and sandalwood, a tall bookshelf standing like a sentry beside your desk, crammed with worn paperbacks, poetry collections, and old hardcover tomes. A record player sat on a side table, a stack of vinyls on the lower shelf - Bowie, Talking Heads, The Smiths, among others. Above it, a framed antique map of the stars hung slightly askew, the edges curling and yellowed from age.

Your desk was cluttered but curated - fountain pens in a tarnished cup, candles burned halfway down, and a raven figurine perched next to a peeling leather-bound journal with a cracked spine. Dried flowers - lavender, marigolds, hibiscus - hung from twine above your headboard.

It was the kind of room that told stories, like it had secrets in its walls. It hit him suddenly how intimate this all was. Not in the obvious, physical way, but in a deeper, rawer sense. It was late, everyone else in the tower was likely asleep, but here he was, in your chambers. Just the two of you.

"What part of 'go away' did you not understand?" You mumbled, not bothering to look up.

"I'm known for many things, but my ability to follow orders is not among them," Loki replied, feigning nonchalance.

You sat up with a start, as if your ears had deceived you. Your eyes met his and widened slightly. "Loki," You breathed.

The way you looked at him tugged at something inside of him. He wasn't sure what the feeling was, exactly - it wasn't concern, nor pity; not the shared comfort of outcastedness the two of you had shared in the library. It was something deeper, something.. Unexpected.

He awkwardly crossed his arms, standing in the middle of the room like he wasn't sure whether to sit or flee. "I'm.. I'm not good at this," He started. "Talking. Feelings. All of that." He cleared his throat. "But I wanted - needed, to ask... why?"

You gestured to the foot of your bed, and Loki sat, rigid and awkward. "Why, what?" You asked.

"Why did you defend me?" He blurted before he lost the nerve. "To Thor. So fiercely."

You were surprised. "What?"

"You didn't have to," He continued. "You could have agreed with him, or even said nothing. It likely would have been easier, but you didn't. Why?"

"Why wouldn't I?" You asked.

Loki paused, his expression raw and unguarded. "Because, I've done terrible things. Unforgivable things. I've lied, stolen, manipulated, killed innocents. Left trails of destruction across entire realms. I've betrayed those who trusted me, those who loved me. Thor is right to be wary. But yet you still fought for me, spoke kindly of me. Why?"

You stared at him, something unreadable clouding your expression. Your lips parted, but no words came, not right away. You looked stricken, guilt so powerful it closed your throat welling up inside of you. Loki noticed your internal battle and his posture straightened, like he'd stumbled across something not meant to be seen.

You took a breath, then another, the silence stretching between you, thick and heavy. Then, finally, you spoke.

"I defended you, because I know what it's like to be seen as a monster." You sounded choked, your voice small and tight. "Not because someone assumes it, or because of what you look like or who your family is, but because you are. Because you did something monstrous... And can't take it back."

Loki stilled beside you. You fought to continue around the rising tightness in your chest, threatening to take your breath away. "I've never told anyone this," You admitted softly, staring down at your hands like they were a stranger's. "Not Tony. Not Thor. Not Steve, or Nat, or Bruce. Nobody. But, if anyone would understand... I suppose it would be you."

You swallowed past the hard lump in your throat. "When I escaped the HYDRA facility... It was chaos. I didn't come back to the tower right away, I couldn't. I was half-starved, half mad, basically feral with abilities I couldn't control, and filled with rage. So much rage. I didn't know who I was anymore, I was nothing but fire and blood and pain and couldn't think straight. I wandered the Vienna wilds for days, no food, barely any water, covered in blood - some mine, most not. I was like a rabid fucking dog."

You laughed, but it was bitter and hollow. "When I finally stumbled across that village, I looked like something out of a nightmare. I was something out of a nightmare."

Loki said nothing, just sat, silent and still next to you. His stomach turned, and a sinking feeling crept into his chest like ice water through cracked stone. He had a hunch of where this was going, but he desperately hoped to be wrong. Subconsciously, impossibly, he'd come to think of you as something good - someone kind in a way he'd stopped believing existed in this realm. To imagine that weight - that guilt - bearing down on you... He didn't want to think about that.

"They were afraid. I still remember their screams, they sounded like music. Can you imagine that?" Your voice took on a distant quality, the kind that only came with long buried trauma. "When they saw me, this filthy, stumbling thing, skin grey and brambles tangled in my hair... They screamed, the children ran, and someone threw something at me. I don't even remember what, but it was all I needed to snap."

major tw!! this will be graphic, gory and disturbing. feel free to skip ahead. if you continue reading, you do so at your own risk.

You sucked a breath in through your teeth. "A man came at me with a pitchfork - as if that would do anything. I liquefied him. The flesh sloughed off his bones before he even hit the ground. Another tried to pull me back with rope; I burned him, watched his flesh blacken and listen to him beg me to stop while his eyes boiled in his skull." Your hands clenched, knuckles white as ivory. "I ripped a mother in half with a shockwave, and she still refused to let go of her baby. I watched her intestines spill into the dirt while the baby screamed. I roasted a man inside of his own iron chimney because he tried to hide, you could hear his fists pounding the walls before his lungs gave out."

You swallowed thickly as your voice dropped to a monotone, each word more horrifying than the last, but you wouldn't stop, wouldn't spare a single detail. If Loki thought he was a monster, he needed to hear what you had done. This was your penance.

"There was a little girl, maybe six years old. Dark hair, big brown eyes. She didn't scream, didn't even cry - just looked at me, not like I was a monster, but like she could still see a person under all of the filth and fire. I didn't burn her, or blast her - I just hit her. I caved her head in with a piece of debris because I couldn't stand the way she looked at me like I could be saved."

tw over! if you didn't read, y/n brutally massacred a village.

Tears burned your eyes as you stared at your hands, but you didn't let them fall. "When it was over, the village was nothing but a smoking crater. I made sure nothing was left, not even bones. Like erasing them could erase me."

"So you ask why I defended you? Because you're not the only 'monster' in the room."

When you finally forced yourself to meet his eyes, you braced yourself for the worst, expecting to see disgust, horror, etched across his features. Fear, maybe, or revulsion.

What you found was far more devastating.

His eyes held grief, raw and aching, like he was watching a mirror image of himself bleed out before him and he was powerless to stop it. His expression was unbearably soft, painfully open and vulnerable in a way you'd never seen, like your words had carved straight through him. He looked at you the way someone would look at something precious that had been shattered - not repulsed by the cracks, but mourning the violence of how they got there.

"You thought I would hate you," He said softly, not as a question, but as a sad truth. "I know that look in your eyes, Y/N. I've worn it myself." You blinked at him, your breath caught between a sob and silence. "I know what it is to be consumed by rage, to become the thing people whisper about long after the screams have faded. To do something unforgivable and still wake the next day, forced to live with it. But Y/N," He said, awkwardly laying his hand on yours, "I don't look at you and see a monster. I see someone who survived against all odds. Someone HYDRA tried to twist and break, but who fought and escaped. And yes, you lost control. Gods, you lost everything, but that doesn't make you evil."

You stared at him like the ground was ripped out from under you. You swallowed hard, your eyes burning. Your hands twitched in your lap, and Loki gave them a squeeze.

Then the dam broke.

Your body gave out like it couldn't bear the weight anymore and you hunched forward, hiding your face behind shaking hands as sobs you kept locked behind your ribs for far too long rocked your body. Then, surprising both of you, you felt arms wrap around you.

Tentative at first, awkward and uncertain, like they didn't know what they were doing. But they wrapped around you just the same, steady and warm and solid, drawing you into him without another word. You collapsed into his chest, his shirt bunching in your fists as your cries grew louder, your tears soaking through the linen, but still he held you.

Loki, who had always kept everyone at arm's length, who had once recoiled from touch like it burned, cradled the back of your head in one hand while the other curled protectively around your waist. Then, he rested his cheek against the top of your head, the material of your scarf tickling his nose as you fell apart in his arms.

next chapter

author's note: sorry for the graphic lore drop! it just felt right to me for her to have a similar monstrous background, something to connect with loki on a deeper level <3

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by the wonderful @mochie85 <3

Baby Fever Crew!

I am more than happy to announce that I finished editing the wedding fic! I can't believe it. This wonderful, amazing team project is finally coming together! I can't wait to share it with you, honestly! 😍

Y'all ready for this?!

Loki definitely is! 😉

Now... I'd like to have a proper posting schedule for this, 'cause that way nobody is going to miss it. 🤗 Would you like that?

The choice is yours! I'm ready! 🫡

P.S. We're gonna start next week as soon as I have the result! 🥳😍

Baby Fever Crew assemble! @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @jennyggggrrr @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @brokenpoetliz @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @smolvenger @lou12346789 @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @cakesandtom @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake @anukulee @lady-rose-moon @ainsley30 @lovingchoices14 @lokischambermaid @irishhappiness @mandywholock1980 @totsnotlynn @loki-laufeyson223 @vbecker10 @lulubelle814

[jiyascepter]

1K FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION ᯓ✦

MY GOODNESS I DIDN'T KNOW THIS MANY PEOPLE ARE LIKING MY BLOG !! THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU ALL SOOOOO MUCH!!! 😘

I didn't have anything planned for this, but I think starting to take requests would be a great time to celebrate this!!

So you are welcome to fill my inbox with a Song lyric + Character (Loki or Bucky) and I'll try to make a lil blurb, drabble or if possible, a oneshot based on it (angst, hurt/comfort, fluff or smut)

-> I can change the request according to what suits me

-> Pls be patient !

Tagging people from my taglists in the comments .𖥔 ݁ ˖

[disneyismyworldforever]

Loki vs. Bucky Barnes

= Not choosing

Both men are super sexy to me

[perseephoneee]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓘𝓘

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

↳ fic masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

a/n: this is such a filler chapter, and it's also terrible, and i hate it.

While you knew the Odinsons, you didn’t know the full extent of their history. That is until you made it home from the dance, and your sister demanded you tell her about your rendevous with Thor. You were so exhausted you could barely get the answers she yearned for.

Lady Frigga, the mother of Thor and Loki, was originally a lady of the ton but married Odin, a Prince of Norway at the time. After Frigga’s passing, Odin moved the family back to London in honor of her spirit. You found it surprisingly romantic. 

You awoke late the following day, finding the night before's events tiring. Social situations constantly exhaust you. Going through your closet, you put on a green gown, ignoring any help that could be given to you. You resented having someone else dress you. You were so in your own head as you bounded down the stairs to your sitting room that you barely noticed the man taking up space on the couch. 

“Your Highness,” you bowed, eyes wide as Thor sat up to greet you with a bright smile. Your Grandmother was perched on one of the other setees, an excited sparkle in her eyes. Oh, how you wished to squash that gleam. 

“Lady Chilton, how do you fare this morning?” Thor asked, hands clasped behind his back. He was ridiculously tall, and you had to tilt your head to take him in. 

“Well, I wasn’t taken in my sleep, so I would hazard that I’m doing well,” I said, taking slight glee at the glare my Grandmother shot me. Thor let out a hearty laugh, though. 

“I’m glad you are still in our presence,” Thor answered earnestly. “I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to the races today?”

“Races?” You dared a glance toward your grandmother before looking back at Thor’s icy blue eyes. You clasped your hands before answering. “Absolutely. That sounds wonderful.” Thor perked up at your answer, as did your grandmother. 

“Splendid, do you need a second before we leave?” he asked. You shook your head no, letting yourself be ushered out with his hand on the small of your back. You didn’t bother looking back at your grandmother; you knew she would be ecstatic. 

Of course, the carriage that Thor showed up in was immaculate, and he helped you into one of the seats. You settled yourself, adjusting your skirt as Thor joined you in the carriage and closed the door. Your hands sat in your lap, anxiously twiddling your thumbs. 

“Have you been to the races before?” Thor inquired. 

“Heavens, no,” you chuckled, catching yourself. Your insubordination was going to get you in trouble someday. Thor seemed to find it charming, though, so he just laughed. “I prefer a good book.”

“So does my brother,” Thor sighed, glancing out the window. The sounds of the ton and nature were fast approaching, and the mention of Loki changed your mood. He was an enigma to you, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “We’ve arrived.”

You glance out the window, taking in the scenery. The races were held near the lake, with green pastures surrounding its perimeter. Many members of society were there, and the available men were already courting some eligible ladies. Pastel colors and parasols obscured much of the natural sites you would’ve loved to see. Still, maybe you’d have time later. 

A light conversation occurred between you and Thor as he led the way to the stadium. He was attentive to your words, asking probing questions that let you know he was listening. Unfortunately, you didn’t have much in common. Still, he was kind. He respected that you weren’t a ‘typical’ lady of the ton. If you had to marry, it wouldn’t be a wrong choice. 

The truth was, you had yet to learn how races worked. You had the general idea, but you had never attended one. Thor seemed excited, so you tried your best to adopt his enthusiasm. Unfortunately, your seat had to be next to his brother's. 

“What brings the fair lady out to join us today?” Loki coos, a teasing tone evident. You rolled your eyes as you and Thor approached. Thor left to place his bet, giving you a second alone with the raven-haired prince.

“Your brother invited me,” you smile, tilting your head. 

“Looks like you found someone who enjoys your wit,” Loki says, looking out over the fields slightly teasingly. You bristle, eyes narrowing. 

“If only you could find someone who enjoys yours,” you mumble. Loki looks at you through narrowed eyes, biting his tongue as Thor returns. 

“Apologies for the delay, m’lady,” Thor says, leaning down to your height. “Hope you were able to stay entertained.”

“Conversation could be better, but otherwise, I’m fine,” you glanced at Loki, raising your eyebrows in amusement. He crossed his arms, indifferent. Thor chuckled, leading you to your seats. 

The race was about to start, and all the horses and their riders lined up. At this point, the event was beginning to feel like a Venetian breakfast– way too long. Like all the other sensible ladies, you wished you had brought a fan to stave off the heat. That would mean conforming, though, something you never excelled at. You found yourself much more interested in the race than you thought. When the horses took off, you were on the edge of your seat. One would pull in front of the other, then fall behind. You found yourself rooting for the grey-dappled horse; something quiet about its demeanor drew you in. It would’ve won; you believed that if it wasn’t for the Palmano next to it that distracted your chosen horse enough that it ended up only placing second. 

“Oh, come on!” you exclaim, standing up in a huff as the stadium erupts in cheers or disappointment.  “That was–”

“Perposterous,” Loki finished your sentence, indignation in his tone. You made eye contact, resenting the way his green eyes made your heart skip a beat. 

“What’s wrong?” Thor asked, concerned but still joyful. 

“That wasn’t very sportsmanlike,” you mumble to him, brows furrowed. 

“Life isn’t always fair,” Thor says. “Sometimes what we think is right isn’t always.”

“Sounds like something that a man who just won a race would say,” Loki sighs, sprawling out in his seat. You hide a hint of a smile, refusing to acknowledge either brother's words. 

“You two are too similar,” Thor huffs, causing you to chuckle. Too similar or too obstinate, you couldn’t tell. You did know, though…you didn’t want to spend more time with Loki.

taglist: @eleniblue @iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief

[daisybell17]

Morning coffee with Loki hc’s:

(slight (barley tbh) nsfw implications)

You get up much earlier than him and make coffee for yourself, just like every morning

He got up just 10 minutes after you and jumped onto the couch, sprawling out his arms and legs

“Morning, want some coffee?” you hold out your mug to show him your drink

“Yes please…but can i get a kiss first?”

You smile and give him a quick peck on the lips. You make your way into the kitchen and start making his cup

He comes up to you in the kitchen and wraps his arms around your waist, rocking you both side to side

You sway along with him and smile at the moment

He hums to the tune of your song as his hands glide down the sides of your waist, making their way into the hems of your shorts

You blush at his movements “Loki what are you doing?” you say teasingly

“Nothing! Can’t I just…hug my beautiful beautiful girl?” He says as if he isn’t obviously implying something

You roll your eyes and turn around, handing him his coffee “Don’t act like I don’t know what mischief act you’re up to”

He laughs at your comment and takes the hot mug from your hands

He took a step back, leaning against the island counter behind him, you hop onto that counter, watching him drink up the coffee you made for him

Quickly finishing his drink, he put the mug aside and stood in front of you “Can I get another kiss?”

You laugh and give him another kiss, but this time he didn’t let you go, only pulling you closer to his body

Laughing at his actions you only pull him closer, heating up the moment

Loki then started nibbling at your ear, making his way down to your neck

“What’s got you all riled up this morning?!”

“You. Always” Smiling as he pulls away

You hope of the counter and pull him by his shirt and into your shared room

a/n: i wrote this while having coffee…mornin!

[november-rayne]

A Gift for Loki - Summary

Young Prince Loki of Asgard is the God of Mischief and Chaos, the wild and unscrupulous little brother of Thor, and the son of the King of the Æsir.

Being second in the line of succession, Loki meticulously performs his palace duties by day, but by night he can be found living up to his reputation as a hard-core partying playboy.

Alas, a prince of Asgard cannot remain a fun-loving bachelor forever. Loki's world is turned upside down when duty calls for him to take a wife. His parents have betrothed him to the daughter of the most prominent Lord in the kingdom.

Loki would rather be dragged to Hel than to the altar, that is, until he finally lays eyes on his bride-to-be. Meeting Sigyn cracks the foundation on which he built his hedonistic reputation.

Can Loki give up his philandering lifestyle and become the husband Sigyn deserves? The Nornir have brought the two of them together; will outside forces tear them apart?

*This story is for mature audiences only.* 18+

*Minors DNI*

Warnings: Explicit descriptions of sexual acts, alcohol intoxication, and drug use. Specific trigger warnings will be attached before each chapter when applicable.

This story is NON-CANON. This is an MCU/Norse mythology hybrid AU: Thor and Loki are biological brothers, and Odin isn't the worst father. Comparably, in human years, Loki is in his mid-twenties, and Thor is late twenties. Set in Asgard, the realm is described as a large kingdom with territories and hierarchies among Odin's Lords and Ladies.

Genre: Fluff and Smut. An all-round feel-good fic.

Pairings: AU Loki x Sigyn

Chapters Index 👇🏼

*Contains SMUT

1. Prologue*

2. When Opportunity Knocks*

3. The Message*

4. Denial*

5. The Lost Prince

6. Ill-prepared

7. Meeting Sigyn

8. Doubt*

9. Family Dinner

10. Paths Not Taken

11. The Betrothal Feast

12. Discoveries

13. The Chase

14. Heart to Heart

15. A Token*

16. The Best Man

17. A Kingly Visit

18. Home*

19. Seeing

20. Oh, Brother

21. Fond Farewells- Part One*

22. Fond Farewells- Part Two*

23. The Bachelor Party

24. Brother Mine

25. Reunion

26. Unexpected

27. Sigyn's Virtue

28. Sera's Trials

29. Bed Rest*

30. Purpose

31. The Wedding

32. The Reception

33. His Goddess*

34. Epilogue*

A Gift for Loki One-Shots

The Gift of the Sun* The Gift of Distraction* The Gift of Distraction - Part Two*

*Contains SMUT

[haravath0t]

⸝⸝ ʚ ⛸ ! ⌗ °• ⎯ೃ༄

𝚛𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚞!𝚕𝚘𝚔𝚒 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓 - 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝟼

"𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚕𝚢,

𝚒'𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚢"

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : ̗̀➛  the prince has his eyes on you in this winter ball, but does he know you're a mere peasant?

☕🤍🌿 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 ! 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 ! ☕🤍🌿

You were out of breath by the time you rushed into the chateau, your feet rushing up the stairs into the attic like clockwork as the eyes of your friendly creatures watched you in amusement. The wooden door shuts, and you cannot help but lean against it. 

12:15 AM. 

Your eyes shut, your lips curled in a wide smile, your chest heaving in your less than grand journey home. You knew you had your stepmother and your stepsisters arriving within the hour, yet the sweeping melodies of violins, the deep timbre of the cello, and the ever flowing harp remain in your ears. The memory of the world around you dimming as you were whisked away in your flowing gown stuck to you like the soot of the fireplace clings to your fingers. 

Gone was the beautiful gown that you had adorned, gone was the grand carriage that you had arrived at the castle in, gone were the beautiful horses, the glitter, the gloves. But alas, the singular glass slipper that was once on your foot, was now in your calloused hands, a singular reminder of the dashing and mysterious visage of the prince that had danced with you into oblivion just hours before. 

You can only thank your fairy godmother above, because after all…

The dream that you wished, did come true.

[loki--fics]

stardust - part six

loki × reader

content warnings: fighting, cancer, illness, strong language

word count: 2,133

The lounge was quiet, the light from the muted television casting soft, flickering shadows across your face. You were seated alone on the couch, knees drawn up and arms wrapped loosely around them as you stared blankly at the screen. Not that you were watching - your mind was somewhere else; somewhere colder, darker. Somewhere with green eyes and a soft, unreadable smirk, with raven hair and a silver tongue that you thought about more often than you cared to admit.

You were so wrapped in thought that you hadn't noticed at first when Thor walked in. Hadn't noticed his white knuckles or rigid posture, the tired bags beneath his eyes or the fury seething within them.

He stood just inside the threshold of the room, watching you, already tense and bitter. That you hadn't even bothered to look up when he'd entered only salted the sting that had been festering in his chest all night, and he cleared his throat aggressively.

You blinked, startled from your thoughts, and finally glanced over at him. But it wasn't the warm, friendly gaze he had once taken for granted. There was no affection, no spark of camaraderie, no teasing glint. It was distant, guarded; the kind of look you'd give an acquaintance, a stranger, not your closest friend and ally.

It pierced Thor like a blade. "How the hell can you look at me like that?" He snapped angrily.

You frowned, confused. "Like what?"

He bristled. "Like.. Like I'm a stranger! Like we haven't been through hell and back together, like we... Like we were never us!"

You leveled your gaze, jaw tight. "There hasn't been an 'us' for a long time, Thor. But I think you know that."

A flicker of confusion and defensiveness crossed his face. "What is that supposed to mean?"

You sighed, your voice brittle. "I didn't step back first, you did. Don't pretend like you didn't. You started pulling away the second my illness started showing, when my hair fell out, when my weight dropped, when I started looking like death warmed over."

"That's not-" Thor started.

"Oh, but it is," You interrupted. "We were fine when I still looked okay, when I could still keep up the act. But once I started looking sick - really sick - you could hardly even look at me anymore. You didn't know what to say, so you said nothing. You didn't know how to act, so you stopped trying. The last time I came back from chemo, you couldn't even look at me. You sat on the other side of the room and stared at the wall like I made your skin crawl."

Thor flinched. Outside the door, Loki stopped mid-step. He had really only meant to pass through, but the sound of raised voices had stopped him. He knew he shouldn't be listening in, but curiosity got the better of him.

Then Thor spoke, his voice defensive and bitter. "There it is again. You always use your illness to justify everything - shutting everyone out, isolating yourself, acting like you're the only one who's hurting. You're just victimizing yourself."

You froze, and the air went still. Even Loki knew his brother had crossed a line, and he didn't hear half the conversation before this. Thor knew as well, and as soon as the words left his lips he wished he could swallow them back down, but it was too late - they hung in the air, sharp and brutal.

Your fingers twitched, your posture shifting suddenly as if a switch had been flipped within you. Your gaze went cold, glassy, and unreadably calm as it fixed on Thor. For the first time in a long time, Thor - God of Thunder - felt afraid.

"Victimizing myself?" You repeated, so softly it sent a chill down his spine. Your voice was flat, hollow, almost curious, like you were asking him to repeat it just to see if he'd really said it. He opened his mouth to speak - to justify it, to take it back, to say he hadn't meant it like that - but it was too late.

You stood slowly, deliberately, your hands clenched into fists at your sides as heat rolled off of you in slow waves. The temperature in the room began to climb, humidity so thick Loki could feel it in the hall.

You've sure done it now, brother, Loki mused as he watched from the doorway, silent and unseen.

"I'm always victimizing myself?" You said again, louder this time, enunciating every syllable with razor-edged clarity.

Thor took a step back. He didn't mean to, but the air was burning, flames licking the tips of your fingers like the first spark of a forest fire, hungry and wild.

Your voice rose with the heat. "You think I want this? That I chose this?" Your lip curled, fury crackling in every word. "You think I'm using cancer like it's a fucking excuse? You think I like what I've become? You have no idea what it's like to be trapped in this... This broken, dying body! To watch it fall apart day by day, piece by piece, while everyone I love stand there and acts like I'm already fucking dead!"

The carpet beneath your feet blackened and curled with heat, and Thor could feel sweat beading at his hairline and plastering his hair to the nape of his neck.

Then your voice drooped, raw and tired, the flames dimming for a moment, more ember than inferno. "Every few weeks I sit there while they pump poison into me, and I don't get a choice. And I smile through it, because no one knows what the hell to do except pat me on the back and tell me how 'strong' I am." Your gaze turned hollow and worn as you stared at Thor. "It's like being trapped all over again, but this time, there's no explosion big enough to get me out."

Thor's breath caught. There it was, the unintentional wound you didn't know you'd delivered. His brother's name didn't leave your lips, but he remembered. Every word from the library, every trembling syllable about the cell, the tests, the power boiling under your skin, you breaking out and burning everything to ash.

Jealousy twisted again, sharp and bitter. "You know, you talk about being trapped and poisoned like none of us could ever possibly understand, but you told him, didn't you?"

You blinked, confused. "What?"

"Loki!" He barked, accusatory. "My brother! You told him everything while you fed the rest of us scraps."

The colour drained from your face. "How do you-"

"The library," He growled. "I heard you. I came to return your book, and found you with him, my brother, the walking disaster. Sitting close enough to touch, spilling every sordid detail of your goddamn soul out like he'd earned it. And the rest of us? We got vague, deflective fragments. Ghost stories without any bones."

You blinked. Not because he knew - because of how he knew. "You spied on me," You hissed.

"I didn't mean to," Thor said. "But you told him everything, details you wouldn't even tell me. And you know what? I almost told the whole team everything you said, but I didn't. Because I wanted to hear it from you. Because I thought, after everything we've been through, maybe you'd think I deserved to."

Your lip curled in a sneer. "And what, you think I should be grateful? That I should be thanking you, grateful you didn't go telling everyone about a private moment of mine that you spied on?" You laughed, but it was hollow, dry. "And you think you deserved to know? You don't get to demand pieces of me. You had absolutely no right-"

"You had no right to shut us out!" Thor cried, his voice raw. "To shut me out! I was your best friend, and you left me out in the cold while you poured your heart out to Loki, the screw-up, the one who's done nothing but prove why he can't be trusted-"

"Shut up!" You bellowed. A heat wave rivaling Arizona summers rippled out from you as you took a step towards Thor, an inferno blazing in your eyes. "You think this is about who's earned what? Loki may be a lot of things, but at least he's never treated me like some fragile thing already halfway in the ground! It's bad enough that I have to sit here and slowly rot to nothing, but you know what's worse? I have to watch all of you, watch me die. I see it in your eyes every time I walk in the room - the pity, the grief, the fear - I hear you whisper about it when you think I'm not around! I know about the conversations planning my funeral!"

Your chest heaved with ragged breaths as you continued. "What the hell else was I supposed to do? You want to talk about me isolating myself? Pushing you all away? I didn't do it because it's easy for me, I did it as a fucking mercy for all of you." Flames danced up your arms now, a physical manifestation of the white-hot anger inside you. "You all look at me like you're already grieving, like I'm a ghost you can't touch. But not Loki. He talks to me like I'm still here, like I'm still me. He's not like you think he is." Your voice softened slightly, still wounded but defiant. "He's not awful at heart. He's been hurt, and he's misunderstood - like me."

Loki's breath caught, his throat tightening. There you were, defending him again, even when it cost you. Something he couldn't name gnawed at his chest.

"But I don't have to explain myself to you," You continued. "I'm not a child, and you're not my warden."

"Oh please," Thor scoffed. "Don't act like you're some kind of fucking martyr for casting aside everyone who cares about you. You've been treating everyone like garbage since the lightbulb incident. Like we're the enemy. We've all been walking on eggshells, and you don't seem to care!"

"You mean the meeting?" You spat.

He faltered. "What?"

You scoffed. "I overheard an interesting conversation of my own. I heard you, all of you. That little secret rendezvous you all had, talking about how I might be dangerous. How you you all need to keep an eye on me - just in case."

Thor opened his mouth, but you cut him off. "Tony said he didn't even know what to do with me anymore. Do you know what that felt like? Hearing that from my own family?" He looked away shamefully. "And Loki - you think he's cruel? That he's cold? Well maybe he is, but don't pretend you don't know why. You told me the stories, remember?"

"Y/N, I-"

"You're the one who sat with me and said how he'd always stood in your shadow. How Odin 'saved' him from Laufey only to tell him he'd never be enough. That he was born to kneel, born to fail. How you'd get the glory, and he got the scraps. And now you're surprised that he's bitter?"

His face twisted with shame, with guilt. "You're twisting that, that's not how I-"

"Am I twisting it?" You snapped, stepping in closer, leaving blackened footprints in the carpet behind you. "Then tell me what you did mean, Thor. Because the way I see it, you just want everyone to see you as the noble one - the hero. And Loki was the screw up that helped you shine brighter."

Thor's mouth hung agape as you continued. "You're just angry that I found comfort in someone who knows what it's like to be treated like a monster."

Out in the hall, Loki was frozen. He hadn't expected this. How selflessly you defended him, without even knowing that he was here, listening, clinging to every word like it was a lifeline. But more startling to him was the reason - because you understood. Understood him, his pain, his past; you embraced it instead of turning away like so many others.

"You say I chose him over you," You sighed, your voice sagging. You turned away, shoulders trembling as you fought to regain control. The flames licking your arms seceded reluctantly, but the scorch marks on the rug beneath your feet remained - dark, charred, permanent. "But you made that choice the minute you started looking at me like I was already dead."

You didn't look back as you walked out, leaving Thor standing there, soaked in sweat, and sweeping past Loki without even realizing he was there. Loki stayed quiet for a long moment, watching you walk away, and then he turned a corner and went the other way.

next chapter

author's note: i tried to keep it from running too long, but i still wanted to include a lot of detail, all the feelings y/n has kept bottled up coming to the surface. i feel like there's been a lot of drama, though, so i think i'll tone it down a bit in the coming chapters. maybe lol.

[astoriasigyn]

Y'all, I'm getting the itch to read a really good/long Loki fic, but I feel like I've read all the "top" ones already 🫣.

Anyone have any suggestions?

[write-and-wander]

TGLI | Two: To Fill Days with Blessed Eternity

Loki (MCU/Norse Lore) x Female Reader (OC) Description: The rescue, and the aftermath. Forgiveness comes quickly from the heart of the timid; but it does not change the course of the stubborn. Warnings: N/A | Word count: 3.8k

Read on Ao3 | Prologue | One | Two | ... | (/13)

You’ve lost count of the number of days that have passed since you arrived in Jotunheim.

Once you had seen the snow-capped mountaintops of the frozen realm, you realized the talons that held you were that of a transformed jotun; and likely one that decided it was time you shared your gift with them.  When you landed in an unfamiliar home, Thjazi made himself known by returning to his true frost giant form, confirming your theory:

You were here to serve the jotnar now.

Where were the promised valkyrie protectors, meant to keep greedy others at bay?  Where were the gods who had claimed to love you, and had sung your praises upon the deliverance of their eternity?  Where was the god of mischief who had robbed you of your heart and home, leaving you at the hands of a cold giant?

You don’t know.  You tried to count the days in which you had been left without answers, but time has continued to revel in its cruelty as it crawls by at a pace you cannot keep up with, blurring the world around you into a cold, muddled, snowy gray.

You tried pleading with Thjazi, in the beginning, to let you go.  No matter what you would say, it seemed all for naught.  He knew who you were; he knew the gods would age and die should you be shut out from them forever.  He would not budge.  To him, to the jotnar, and seemingly to all the nine realms, you and your gift are made nothing more than a commodity to be hoarded;  And hoard you, he did.

Your once-pristine white robes have tattered and dulled and grayed from their continuous wear, despite usually being covered in furs to maintain warmth amidst the frigid climate.  Your hair has grown rather long, usually maintained now by braids.  Though you’re limited by the situation, you’ve still managed a small wintery garden near the house Thjazi kept you in.  You’re thankful for the bit of color it provides in the gray wasteland.

As you sit on your thin mattress, staring out through the window of the second floor of Thjazi’s home, your frail body still aches from the night before- from Thjazi dragging you to yet another feast, wherein you were put on display like prized livestock.  You stood all night at the front of the hall, your ankles and wrists sore from the chilled metal that attached you to the ground, keeping you in place.  Boars were often caged beside you, slaughtered just before the feast began in the name of providing the freshest meat.  You wondered if the animals understood their place in this cruel event, too.  You almost hoped they do, despite the part of you that wishes they maintain blissful ignorance for as long as they can to reduce their suffering.  If they knew they were here to be used at the jotnar’s whims, then maybe you wouldn’t be so alone.  You usually tried to offer them comfort within their cold cages- through small food offerings, or soft words, or a calming hand brushing down their back.  It was the least you could do for your fellow livestock.

In line with the new routine, the animal was slaughtered by cheering drunkards in the center of the hall.  Numb, you silently blessed their meal, placing a trembling hand on the raw, bloody meat.  Then, you spent the rest of the evening waiting to return to a home that was not yours, where you collapsed into a dreamless slumber.

Each morning that you woke was its own sort of prison.  Your dreams were blinks of black, bearing you no sense of escape as even the goddess Nott’s gift of dreams would not reach you in this frigid place.  Loneliness saturated your existence.  The house you were held in was lonely, even if Thjazi was there.  The grand banquets in great halls were lonely, even when filled with jubilant crowds.  Your small garden was lonely, even with the few plants you maintained.  You were constantly utterly alone.  You’d cry over it more often if tears meant anything anymore.

Thjazi was generous enough to give you some leftover food from the bacchanalian feast before he went out to sea for the day.  The bread and cooled meat sit on a cloth in your lap.  You wonder how long he will be gone; if he will return tonight, or grant you a couple days of peace through his absence.  Only time will tell.

For now, you sit, leaning against the frame of the window, staring out into the white abyss and wondering what will become of your Asgardian garden and your gods.  You tie the cloth in your lap closed and set it beside you, hoping you’ll be in the mood to eat later.  A fine golden chain delicately drapes around your neck, the green stone resting between your fingers as you mindlessly fidget with the prize that acted as the final nail in your coffin.  

You replay the memory in your head again in a torturous ritual you’ve made for yourself, searching for answers you can never seem to find.  The arm of Loki beneath your hand.  The sound of running water over the small cave.  The moonflower.  The books.  The promise of return.  The gold shimmer.  The empty forest.  The unanswered cries.  The cold wind.  The sharp talons.  There is nothing.  No answers, no closer to home, and no god of mischief.  

You force your thoughts to focus on your garden instead, and wonder if you might see it again.  You mentally begin your walk through your home, knowing every plant in it by heart.  The thought of walking in that soft grass grants you a touch of much-needed comfort.

You watch the clouds slowly drift by in their various shades of gray, thinking of those you’ve been forced to leave behind, when there’s a heavy knock at the door.

You freeze.  Thjazi only left a couple of hours ago… and he explicitly instructed me not to answer the door.  Grabbing your pouch of food, you quickly stand and move across the room on the pads of your feet, minimizing any noise your footsteps could make.

While you climb down the large steps to the main floor, the stranger knocks at the door again- and this time, it’s faster.  Heavier.  Growing upset.

With a quick glance around the room, you decide to dive under Thjazi’s massive bed, using the disheveled quilt that drapes halfway off the side as cover for your dwarfed body.

“I know you’re in there,” the voice booms from the other side of the door.

You lay your cheek against the near-frozen wood floor and stare out from under the edge of the blanket-shield with wide eyes, focusing on your breath, that it might steady in spite of your racing heart.

With a great crack, the door is forced open, slamming against the parallel wall.

Your hand flies to your mouth, stifling a yelp and muffling your ragged breath.  Your heart pounds in your chest.

Heavy footsteps slowly come closer, pausing for a moment while the broken door is forced closed, and continuing again until the intruder reaches the center of the room.

Blue skin peeks out above giant boots.  A jotunn.  The boots begin to pace, turning as they scan the room.

“Idunn?” A whisper breaks the silence- one that seems familiar to you, somehow.  “Please tell me that oaf had the confidence to leave you here,” he says low, his tone strained by panic.  The boots turn towards the bed before pausing.

Your heart stops.  You hold your breath.

In a flash of scintillating bright green magic, the giant’s boots are suddenly replaced by much smaller ones- that of someone about your size.  What kind of trick-

“I’ve come to take you home, Idunn,” he says, his whisper rising to soft speech.

There’s a moment of hesitation within you until it finally clicks: you know that voice.  You’re certain of it.  Is that… Loki?

With a sharp exhale, you lift the quilt.

Your eyes trail up fine emerald and gold robes until they meet the heartbroken jade eyes of the God of Mischief.

You crawl out from under the bed.  Straightening yourself, you drop your eyes to the floor and keep them low, struggling to maintain his stare.  You know you look worn- but you're not sure you want to know just how worn.

A raging sea of thoughts passes through your mind.  Is this a trick?  Are you one of them?  How can I be certain you will take me home?  Why are you the one who came?  Has my absence at last been noticed?  As always, only one manages to make its way from racing mind to quiet mouth.  “How long?”

He pauses, his troubled expression stripping him of his usual nonchalant mask.  He was prepared for your anger- most everyone has grown angry with him.  However, he was not prepared for your resigned grief.  “Idunn-”

“How long,” you interrupt emphatically, finally looking up, into his eyes, “have I been gone?”

His stare darts between your eyes as his mind grasps for words.

You take a step closer to him.  “Loki-”

“Three years.”

You are immediately locked in an emotional stun.

Three years.

Three years since you've seen the gods you had come to love.  Three years since you were stripped of your own volition.  Three years since you've tended to your garden.  Three years since you've been home.

And based on the way he looks at you now- as if you are something fragile, something that could break if he moved too fast or spoke too harshly- these three long years have come at a great cost, taking a heavy toll on the Goddess of Eternal Youth.

Tear ducts that had long remained dormant spring to life with full vigor, creating twin cascades of tears that run down your cheeks, flushed from the cold.

The dense fog of a silent “why?” settles in the room.

“I can explain,” Loki blurts.

You remain silent, watching him.

“But we must leave.  Now.”

Though despondent, you nod, stepping closer.

He nods, taking a deep breath, reminding himself:  It’s okay to touch you; you won’t break beneath his fingertips.  With a flourish, the god ghosts a hand over your shoulder and transforms you into something small- you're not entirely sure what, to be honest.  In a second green swirl of magic, he turns into a large black bird, similar to the one that had stolen you away from your home all that time ago.  Gently, he picks you up off the ground with his talons, carrying you close to his feathered body to keep you warm.  He pokes his head out of the now-broken door- the one you long stared at as you dreamt of walking through it for good- and after determining the surroundings were vacant, takes off.  The heavy beating of his great wings lifts you into the frigid air, over the giant wooden houses and tall snow capped mountains, and into the grey clouds you had grown so acquainted with from your frosted window.

You watch Jotunheim fade from view as a bittersweet grief settles in the pit of your stomach.  You're glad to be going home, yes; but three years is a long time to be gone, and a long time to endure so much.  There were still countless questions weighing on your numbed consciousness. 

You hope Loki has one hel of an explanation.

Landing on Asgard is surprisingly reminiscent of your first arrival; at least, on the outside.  There is still no crowd awaiting your return home, nor is there any sort of welcome decorum.  Instead, there is an angry All Father standing beside Frigga and a row of Valkyries, blurred by your thick tears that haven’t stopped since you finally left Jotunheim.  

When Loki lands, he transforms back into his usual form, carefully cradling you in his palm.  When you are transformed back, you're laying across his outstretched arms and quickly set down on your feet.

“Welcome home, Idunn,” Frigga greets warmly with a mothers’ embrace.  As you sob into her shoulder, she steals a glance at Odin and gently pries you off of her.  “Come, we'll clean you up.”  She places a soft hand on your arm and ushers you away.

As you walk away, tears still trickling down your cheeks, you hear the distressed tone of Loki's voice quickly smothered by the booming rage of your All Father.

Frigga is quick to lovingly tend to you when you arrive at her palace.

After a warm rosewater bath, you are given new white clothes to replace your tattered robes.  A meal is prepared for you right away- the first warm meal you’ve had in a long while- and a goblet of water is kept full before you.  You cry until you can’t anymore, drink deep and eat your fill, and cry again.

Frigga, ever your closest ally, sits beside you, drying your tears with soft cloths.

You don’t say much of anything.  What is there to say?  She knows the jotun, and what they’re like.  She knows what happened- likely more than you do.  You’re finally home, and you’re safe.  Your gift is yours again.  You are yours again.  That’s all that matters, now.

When you finish eating, Frigga instructs you to rest.  She promises to bring food and check in throughout the day, but she will wait to break the news to the rest of the gods until you feel ready.  You’re well overdue for a trip through the realms, and the gods will be restless until they are rejuvenated again- so it’s for the best that they don’t hear of your return until you begin your travels.

Frigga walks you to your home under the silver glow of Mani.

Arriving at your garden, you see that it has been carefully maintained for you- not as well as you would maintain it, but well enough to keep everything healthy.  It’s a meaningful gesture.  A few extra Valkyries stand guard faithfully at the garden gates.  A couple follow you inside your tower, where Frigga gives you another long embrace before bidding you goodnight.

You are left to rest that night.  The Valkyries remain closer than usual to grant you the company you’ve so deeply craved these three long years.  Exhausted, and in your own bed at last, you drift into a deep sleep.

It isn’t until you rise at last, late into the following afternoon, that Loki makes his appearance at the door of your tower.

“May I?” he asks, anxiously pressing his left thumb into his right palm.  The expression he wears is soft, free of all pretense.  There’s a light crease between his brows as he awaits an answer.  Vulnerability is something the God of Mischief has comfortably slipped away from; yet, here he is, willing himself to expose his emotions to you.

You nod, stepping to the side and closing the door behind him as he enters.

He takes a moment to look around, his eyes briefly pausing on various details in the room.  

Green plants hang from pots chained to the ceiling, cushioned chairs sit around an ornately carved wooden table, and sunlight fills the room, highlighting the golden calligraphy hand-painted on the wall-space that remains between giant windows from which white curtains are pulled back.  The smell of chamomile and rosemary dances on the back of the cool breeze drifting in through the open window.  There’s a touch of life delicately interlaced with every aspect of your home; as if you can’t help but bring gentle vibrancy to everything you encounter.  It suits you.

So much so that Loki feels completely engulfed by you.  Normally, that would almost feel comforting- but in this circumstance, he feels nearly smothered.

You remain standing by the door, watching him.  Your arm crosses over your front as a hand grasps its opposite bicep, a self-soothing gesture to quell the fire of anxiety that has sparked in your chest.

He stands for a while, mouth slightly agape as he tries to decide what to say first.  When he at last speaks, his voice is soft and uneven: “How are you?”

You shrug, softly shaking your head.  “I am… alright.  As much as I can be, I suppose.”

“Did they hurt you?”  His eyes drop, and you realize he’s staring at the reddened raw skin on your exposed wrists.

“No,” you blurt, shaking your head, “well… Not directly.”  

He nods, a touch of relief washing over him.  His shoulders relax, but his thumb still idly presses into his palm, giving way to his lingering anxiety over the conversation that looms over the two of you.

You take a few steps closer, pulling out a chair and sitting on one side of your table.  You fold your hands together in your lap, staring down at them.

Loki follows suit, taking his place in the adjacent chair and turning it to face you.  He learns forward, collapsing his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.  He breathes out a long, heavy sigh.  “It began years ago, after word of your arrival and travels had at least reached every corner of the nine realms.  I discovered,” he lifts his hand, and the ivory skin shifts to an icy blue, “my true lineage.”

“You’re… jotunn?”

He nods.  “Taken as a babe and brought here by Odin.  As soon as I learned the truth, I went to Jotunheim to demand answers.  My mother and father knew.  They saw it happen, and… simply watched.”

Your brows knit together, your heart sinking for him.

“They justified their inaction with a hope: if I were to learn of my true heritage, perhaps I would align with the jotnar and help them gain the immortality Odin has long claimed he would find.  They believe they could come to rule the nine realms so long as they lived long enough to build an adequate army.”

You hesitate, fearful to ask, but eventually manage: “And?”

“I denied them, of course!  I wouldn’t relinquish you into their hands so easily.”  He looks at you with an expression of pleading; one that begs that you believe him.  That you don’t turn your back on him so quickly.  That you forgive him for this horrid thing he’s done to you, even before he’s fully confessed.

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

“They nearly killed me on the spot, promising that Asgard’s blood would pool with mine; and then they made an offer.  If I delivered your gift to them, they would refrain from attacking Asgard.  It wasn’t until you granted me the first apple that I realized you and your gift are one and the same.”

“And it was too late to go back on that bargain,” you finish for him.

He nods.  “I tried to grant you what little comfort I could, before you would be taken from us,” he adds half-heartedly- knowing there was nothing he could say that could make any of what he had done better.  He concedes to the guilt.  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Your eyes drift downward as the realization settles as a grief in your chest.  The choice laid before him was simple: you, or countless others and a war without an end in sight.  Of course he gave you up- what other reasonable option was there?

Yet, your last memories were… sweet, by his design. 

His eyes flicker to your chest, catching the shimmer of the paradox necklace that still faithfully rests against your skin; a bitter symbol of his betrayal, but now, too, a touching memento of his devotion.  Despite the conflict in your heart, it ultimately encapsulated the god you cherish so deeply- a paradox in his own right.  Your downfall and your savior; the god who both doomed his kind and sought recompense by saving them.  You wouldn’t part from his gift in your captivity; you certainly wouldn’t part from it now.

He returns his gaze to yours, a hopeful peace washing over him.   

You’re almost comforted by the thought of Loki’s intention, leaving that necklace behind.  Now, staring into his eyes, you wonder if there’s more to be found within them.  Beyond the regret, past the hope, buried beneath the hesitation.  Perhaps there is more; perhaps you are merely projecting that which you refuse to come to terms with yourself.  You resign yourself only to wonder.

“I would have gone willingly, if you had only asked,” you finally profess, breaking the silence.  Because I would do anything for you, if you asked.

“I could not have asked such a thing of you, Idunn,” he responds softly.  A few words flood his mind and weigh heavy on his tongue.

He will not utter them.

“I promise you,” he insists, taking one of your trembling hands in his, “I will make them pay for what they forced upon me.  For what they’ve done to you.”

Quiet tears fall.  You nod.

“I understand if-”

“I forgive you, Loki.”

His expression instantly softens from one of grief and regret to relief.  His shoulders relax, but his grip on your hand tightens.  The corners of his mouth pull into a brief, soft smile.

Tucking your free hand beneath his, you lift his hands- still gingerly wrapped around yours- and press your lips to his knuckles.

“Thank you,” you whisper with a soft smile.

The warmth that sets his heart aflame is enough to strip him of the bitterness garnered by the newly-discovered jotun form that sits beneath the Asgardian illusion.

You stand, guiding him by the hand to the gates of your garden.  The two of you walk in silence.  With a gentle squeeze of the hand, you at last let go, turning around and heading back to your tower.

He stands for a few seconds, watching you leave, and swallows his words before he, too, walks away.  He cannot tell you now.  He will not tell you now; not after what he has done.

Not when there is yet more he must do.

Not until revenge is wrought from the jotun who set their greedy sights on you.

After that, he will tell you at last.  Once revenge and victory are proclaimed from the mountainous bodies felled by his lying hands, he will offer them as a sacrifice at the altar of your heart and confess the sins committed in his devotion to his ever-worshiped goddess.

And there will be no choice but to adorn him with a husband’s ring and a king’s crown upon the great golden throne.

[stupidthoughtsinwriting]

Try Again | Loki x OC

Chapter 1 - (Next Chapter) -(Chapter List) - (Main Masterlist)

Summary: Enjoying a holiday in Greece until a dreadful call changes it all...

Note: Ohhh I've posted it! okay, first of all, I am open to making a tag list to those interested, just tell me in the comments and I'll put you in. Two, this is the fastest fic i've finished and to me that's astonishing because as you may notice, most of my fics take me months to complete and in finishing this in a few nights is a feat to me. And third, understand that i am going back to class on Monday and thus i might not have as much time to update this as much but i promise i will be working on it and have patience with me. I am unreliable in consistency but I can promise results, even if the time is indefinite. The second chapter is in the works so bear with me and i hope you enjoy!

The sun rests low on the horizon, slowly dipping down amongst the waves. It turns the water a gorgeous shade of gold and the sky flies past in a flurry of bright and brilliant colours. Though as slow as the bright star sinks, it still let off a bit of heat. A welcoming warmth caressing the tanning skin of those still out, enjoying the last rays of the day before heading inside to avoid the chill night.

A child plays in the sand. Building castles of great architecture and collects shells and rocks of all forms and sizes, anything piquing his interests really. A bucket sat beside him and in it rests all his collected treasures. He uses some of the colourful shells and stones to decorate his castle, giving it colour amongst the muted tones of sand.

His mother sits not far from him, basking in the last of the heated rays before the inevitable task of packing up for the day. She watches her boy, clad only in his swim trunks, unruly obsidian curls bouncing at every movement as he fiddles and plays with his toys in the sand.

A warm yet solemn smile painted her thin lips as she watched over her young one, seeing features oh so similar to her husbands. From his ivory skin and up to his emerald eyes, their son was but a copy of his father. The spitting image save for the too few features he had of her, like the scattered bloom of freckles that decorated the bridge of his small nose and cheeks.

He also seems to have gotten mannerisms eerily similar that of his father, despite the brief and few memories he had of him in their short time. The pick at his hands and furrow that would rest on his brows whenever he was confused or sad was just so like her husbands. It brought an overwhelming need to be protect him from the dangers of the world, but she knew that as he grew, she won’t be able to protect him from everything and the best she could do was to teach him how to protect himself. But as of now, she would do just about everything to keep him safe.

Just as the sun began to descend the horizon, the boy abruptly stood up and walked over to where his mother lay beneath an umbrella, clutching tight on the offering he wished to show his mother.

‘Mama!’ he called out as he reached near her.

‘Yes, my darling?’ she replies warmly.

‘Wook at what I found mama’ he urged for her to look once he reached the tail end of her towel, plopping down on her lap, causing her to grunt at the sudden weight while he thrusts his hands to her face, the offering in question presented. She moves to sit up, the young boy still in her lap as she adjusted her position and lifts her Ray-Ban’s to her head so to properly see whatever it was he so wanted her to well, see.

In his small hands, lay a green sea stone. Big enough to dwarf the small hands of a child like his own yet still small in the eyes of others. It rests softly in her son’s palms, smooth surfaced, and tinted seafoam, she understood why it would pick at her son’s interest.

‘That is beautiful love’ she praises, earning a prideful look from the little boy, his chest puffing out as his grin stretched much like a Cheshire cat. It earned a hearty chuckle from the mother, watching her son’s actions. Joyous and confident, much like how his father was before.

‘May I?’ she asked and once a nod was returned, she plucked the stone from his hands, holding it up to the sky. She hoped that what was left of the day was enough for the light to pass through the translucent glass and it did. The stone glowed bright like the waters before them.

A look of awe shaped the boy’s face, his mouth hung open as he stared at the rock, but the mother’s gaze only strayed for a bit before turning back to her son. The look on his face made every hardship worth it and yet again, it brought another wide grin to her face.

Pressing a quick kiss to his temples, she gave the rock back to him and still, he stared at it as if it contained the hidden magic of the world. Taking the moment with his attention pre-occupied, she brushed away the sands stuck to his skin, from his face to his pale torso, she brushed away as much as she could, but the rest would have to be washed away when they get back to their room.

Speaking of which, she glanced at the sun, the sky a canvas of pinks, oranges and violets as the sun sunk down low enough and it now meant that it was time for them to pack up and head back inside.

Her gaze lingered in the horizon until a tiny voice called her back.

‘Mama’ the child called for her.

‘Yes dear?’

‘Do you think papa would wike this?’ he asked, turning her attention back to him. There had been few and brief times that his father was asked about and often this was the question asked. The other times he’d ask were always of his father’s character. Stories of the man were told and a picture of him was kept among the boy’s things as a remembrance, but it had been a long while since he’s asked of him again.

She stared at the orbs identical to her son’s fathers and she couldn’t help but think of him. His charming smile, his careful touch, his loving gaze, and intoxicating smell. She longed to be back in his once safe arms, but she couldn’t, and that truth is to be accepted.

‘Yes he would luv’ she answers. The truth was, knowing her husband, he’d love anything and everything their little boy gave him. From a messily drawn card for Father’s Day and his birthdays down to a piece of cereal the boy had been eating, the man would have been grateful for anything his boy gave him.

 ‘Bwilliant’ he murmurs, and she just knows he will keep it safely stashed amongst the other things he thinks his father would like. It warmed her heart to have a son so kind and giving. It made her proud that he was growing up to be as so and she just hoped her husband would be as well.

‘Alright darling, we have to go pack up now. Go get your stuff and then we can go back to the room so you can have a bath and then dinner’ she explains to the young boy, tucking away the curtain of curls that hid his face behind his ears before cupping his cheek and giving his little button nose a kiss, causing him to giggle in her hold, his face scrunching up. ‘Alright?’

‘Okay mumma’ he nodded to her command and set off to get his toys and treasures from the sand. Watching him pick up his stuff, she began to pack up as well. Tidying up the drinks and towel she had brough and place them in her bag before brushing off the bit of sand that stuck to her skin before putting on the blue summer dress atop her swimsuit for when they head back to their room.

The boy trudged back to her with a heavy bucket in hand and his kiddie camera slung around his neck. The bucket nearly overfilled with all the stones and shells he collected, along with the beach toys he used to make the castle.

Dropping it with a heavy grunt, the boy huffed and puffed at the exertion, causing his mother to stifle a laugh yet still a sound managed to escape, her hand immediately flying to muffle the sound but seeing it went unnoticed, she relaxed and dropped it.

‘A bit heavy love?’ she asks.

‘A wot heavy’ he says, emphasizing the word like a true drama king. Wonder who he got that from?

‘Alright. Now, do you want to wear a shirt before we go back?’ she asks, offering him the top he wore earlier.

‘No tank you’ he declines, shaking his head.

‘Alrighty then’ she puts his shirt back in the bag before slinging it on her left shoulder and picking up the castle shaped bucket (which did weigh a lot, no wonder her son was left panting) with her left hand. Her right: out in offering for the young boy to hold as they slowly walked back to their hotel.

‘Did you have fun today?’ the mother asked as the walked along the beach.

‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ he shouted in enthusiasm, jumping up and down. The mother could only smile at the boy’s joyous behaviour, glad that she could give him fun memories to look back on.

The rest of their walk was filled with conversation about what the new thing’s he discovered about the sea life, the castle he so artistically constructed and the promise of coming back here another day and by the time they reached the lobby of the resort, the mother could see how the exhaustion of the day was taking a toll on her little boy.

‘Ahh, Miss Ackland’ Mr Birch, the evening manager greeted from behind the reception ‘good day I presume?’ he questions, noting how tuckered out her normally energetic son was started to sag against her. With a brief glance to the boy and a small chuckle, she nodded.

‘Yes, it was good day. Especially for this one’ she replies, rubbing a thumb over the hand in her grasp, hoping to at least rouse the child until he’s eaten dinner.

The man chuckles a bit, seeing how unresponsive the boy is to her attempts. ‘My, the young tyke seems real knackered.’ he comments with an accent much like her own yet the way the words flow so smoothly would have anyone wrapped in a trance,

‘Yes well, all day out in the beach seems to do that’ she responds politely.

‘Well, best not keep you from your young one and leave you to it. Have a nice evening miss.’ he bids her well off with a gentle smile that would leave any woman with a common-sense to a puddle, yet she has her immunity, and she powered through with it.

‘Actually, would you mind sending some food to our room in 15, 20 minutes? We haven’t had the chance to get some dinner and I’m hoping to feed at least a little into him before he’s off for the night.’ She requests of the manager, really wishing to at least have her boy a few bites before going dead to the world.

‘Certainly miss.’ He dutily responds, already picking up a phone to call the kitchen ‘Just the usual ma’am?’  he asks of the meal, turning to her with the phone to his ear.

‘Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you Mr. Birch’ she says with a kind grin, faintly hearing his conversation as mother and son walked away.

‘Yes, to the Amphitrite suite in fifteen minutes… Thank you’.

---

Once the pair arrived back to their room, the sun had finally set, casting a now dark canvas, littered with twinkling stars, though it went unnoticed to the weary boy who had let go of his mothers’ hand as soon as they entered and dropped with a thud on the chalk white cushions once he was near enough while his mother, Ms. Ackland, relieved herself of the heavy weight she had been trudging since the beach.

‘Leo’ she called to the boy softly, opting to not chastise the young one when he was already weary. ‘Come on darling. Quick bath and some dinner then off to bed, sleepy head’

‘But I’m not sleepy’ he whined, an indicator of his true predicament, even as he refuses.

‘Well, a quick wash and some supper then’ she bargained even though she knew he’d out like a light by halfway through dinner and when she received no response, she added ‘and we’ll also wash up the shells and rocks you collected, and you can sort through them after.’ And with that, his head shot up, his curls bobbing as he ran (well more speed walk than run) with what energy he had left to her side, awaiting for her instructions and wanting to get his bucket of treasures so he could wash them.

With the young one finally clean and sand free, dressed in his favourite dark blue pyjamas, they set off to the sitting room portion of the suite, just in time for room service to arrive with their supper. Since Leo had his attention to his rocks and shells (fully washed and draining on a colander borrowed from the hotel), his mother was the one that had gone to get the food, still wearing her blue summer dress since there wasn’t enough time for her to get cleaned herself but she planned on doing so after her little boy had gone to bed.

She thanked the room service and closed the door of the suite before fixing up the plate of food and brought it to where little Leo was pre-occupied, seemingly sorting the rocks by colour and size on the towel laid out before him while he let the shells dry out in the colander a little bit longer. She sat beside him, setting the plate a good distance away from his work area and began to feed her little man.

The rest of that time had been quiet, save for the thud of rocks on the whitewashed coffee table and the occasional murmur to open his mouth so the mother could feed him bites of the pork Souvlaki. In between bites, she’d offer her opinion, helping out a bit on his activity but not once has he said anything. Only responding in nods and a shake of his head, another symptom of his fatigue and true to her word, with the plate half cleared, she noticed the lack of hands working through the rocks and a weight leaning on her. Turning her head, she found the boy sound asleep, a rock he had been looking at still in his grasp but the lack of movement and the slow and steady breaths he let out was enough for her to know.

Pushing the plate aside, she carded a hand through his curls, making him curl up more beside her and all that did was take her back to when it was her husband that did the same thing. Head on her lap, she would comb through his raven locks and all that would do was press a face farther onto her stomach, arms wrapping around her waist so he could pull her closer.

This was most endearing when she has pregnant. Her beloved would whisper to her belly in a hushed tone. Her hand, as always, in his head of hair and when her nails would start to scratch at his scalp, a content sigh always left him before he burrowed in the warm mass of her stomach.

Thinking back, those were near the last good moments she had of just the two of them. A loving husband, doting and caring to his beloved wife as the two prepared the arrival of their little one. So cheery and full of life, once was he and now all she could help but do is miss those moments, let alone the man he was back then.

After a small while, the mother took the boy in her arms and having done this so many times before, it was an instant that the boy instinctively wraps himself in his mothers’ hold, arms circling her neck, legs locking behind her as he laid his little head to her chest, right over where her heart beat a rhythm that often lulled him to sleep. She planted a kiss at the top of his head, right on his unruly curls at she took him to the bedroom.

Laying him down in the middle of the queen-sized bed, she laid with him for a bit to make sure he would no longer stir before carefully untangling herself from his hold. She propped some of the pillows beside him, just to make sure he wouldn’t move to far to edge and fall and covered him with his blankie before deciding it was enough and she left the room, shutting the door quietly.

Taking a survey of the suite, she figured on tidying up and finishing what was left of supper before taking a shower herself, wanting to be rid of the day’s clothes and into her own pyjamas while she indulged on some wine in the balcony.

Nearly giddy at the thought, she set off in doing so and half an hour later, she emerges from the ensuite in fresh clothes, warmed somewhat by a thin green cardigan she put over.

The mother then set off to the kitchenette where a good bottle of wine chilled in the mini fridge. Now without any distractions or hesitation, she took a wine glass the concierge so kindly provided, and poured herself a hearty amount, tasting the aged, fermented juice and relishing at the thought of getting lost from her head for a few hours after a glass or two.

With the glass near empty, it was then that she remembered that she hasn’t even touched her phone nearly the whole day and seeing it sat on the counter, with a quick reach, she had it in her hand. She wasn’t surprised of the lack of notifications, so she set it down and finished the last of her glass’s contents. What did surprise her though was the call that connected a minute later, the familiar name on the ID catching her unexpectedly.

She answered the call before it dropped, wanting to hear from the man after a while of no contact.

‘Thor’ she starts, putting the phone to her ear as she poured herself another glass. ‘Long time’

‘Yeah, um. It has, hasn’t it?’ his deep voice grumbles through the phone’s speaker.

‘Five months to be exact’ she clarifies, bringing the glass to her lips and takes a sip.

‘Sorry, it’s just…’ he started to explain himself, but she cuts him off.

‘No. Don’t, don’t do that. Don’t say that. I could have called but I didn’t, and I am as much to blame’ she clarifies, regretting making the comment when she didn’t want to take apologies when she was just as much at fault as he was.

‘Right, alright. Um, where’s little Leo?’ he asks, diverting the conversation to the boy so to get out of that uncomfortable subject. 

‘Ohh, he’s already in bed. Sorry. Had a long day’.

‘Wow, that early. It’s just a little before nine. Usually, he’d still be very active. Well from what I can remember that is.’ The blond man chuckles, remembering the nights he’d spend with the very energetic child.

‘Actually, it’s about ten before 11 here.’

‘Her- Wudduya mean here? Aren’t you in town?’ the man asks, clearly very confused and he sounds it and that is her fault.

‘Ohh, were in Santorini on holiday. Sorry, I haven’t informed anyone really and I would have you but-’ you haven’t called, and I couldn’t make the call myself the last bit went unsaid but the both of them knew.

‘Oh, okay. Alright.’ He pauses for a while, leaving a pregnant silence to fill until he did. ‘Well, is it good there?’

‘Very’ she responds immediately, uncomfortable by that gap. ‘it’s beautiful. The water, the architecture, the culture, the people, it’s absolutely wonderful.’ She describes, looking to the balcony where there was a perfect view of the sea. ‘Leo’s enjoying himself too. Playing in the beach all day, making sandcastles and he collects shells and rocks that take his interest and earlier he went about to sorting them, but the little man fell asleep halfway into dinner. Too worn out from the day to even finish his sorting.’ She giggles a bit, remembering how the little boy looked all curled up beside her.

‘Seems like you’re having a good time.’ The man responds, a bit despondent but she didn’t hear that.

‘We are.’ She says with a bit of pride ‘we are’ she repeats though this time she’s uncertain and dejected because a part of her is guilty. For actually having a good time and without the man she loves. And another part.. just wants him. To be here with them. To enjoy this with them but, we can’t have all we want now can we.

She faintly heard someone talking, someone angry and that was followed by the sound of the phone shuffling before she heard Thor again.

‘Sorry Em, could you hold for a minute?’ he requests, and she answers back yes but before she could ask anymore, he mutes.

She put the phone on speaker and set it down, taking a gulp of her wine and as promised, after a minute, he came and called her back.

‘I’m back. You still there?’

‘Yah’ she manages before swallowing her drink ‘still here. Everything alright?’ she asks, wondering who it was that was so angry (though she should have known).

‘Yeah. Everything’s just fine’ he replies, sounding out breath.

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah, absolutely. Terrific’ he says with far too much cheer, it annoyed her enough to know it was fake.

‘Thor.’ She says firmly, setting her glass down the marble counter ‘What’s going on?’ she demands sternly, using the voice she rarely would use to chastise Leo with when on bad behaviour, not wanting some half-arsed answer.

Again, a long of silence stretched on until with a heavy sigh, he began.

‘He’s in hospital again.’ He confesses and she shakes her head, knowing well who he meant. Irritated was she, evidently enough to pick up her glass and divide its contents into half.

‘He’s always in hospital’ she replies after swallowing, swirling the liquid around the glass and she watches in fascination, wanting to get her head from what he just said.

‘No. This is different.’ He presses, knowing the times he’s said this before were for minor and abrasive accounts.

‘What do you mean?’ she pesters, her voice now wobbly as a burst of possibilities swirled in her head.

‘He um- ‘he stops himself, swallowing the hard pill because knowing her, telling her this would only tear her apart. ‘He rang me earlier.’ That enough was a giveaway that something was wrong, the severity was the only missing piece. ‘He was in pain, and he could barely let out anything before he dropped the phone and groaned in agony.’ Her breathing hitched then, tears welling her eyes while her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I got to him as soon as I could, and when I found him, he was on the floor, in pain’ He hated repeating that but all he could do was relay the accounts of what happened as it was still all so fresh and hope he could filter it as much as possible. ‘I called for an ambulance and tried to get him to tell me what was happening, but he couldn’t even respond’ he chokes, remembering the sight and it flashes before his eyes, as if he was reliving the whole painful ordeal again.

Emma on the other hand, had tears quietly running her cheeks, hand still tightly clasped to her mouth for fear she would let out a sob that would not only alert Thor but Leo as well. Her mind ran rampant, creating images and images of her pained husband, lying helplessly in pain on the floor, asking for help to no one because of his solitude. Not knowing if he there was anyone coming at all.

Guilt held a tighter grip on her breaking heart as her mind convinced herself that it was her fault that he was alone. She should have been there. She shouldn’t have left. She should have taken care of him and maybe he wouldn’t be where he was if it she had just stayed and cared for him. But she didn’t and she wasn’t there when he was helplessly lying on the ground, wondering if the last thing he’d see was the dirt and bottles that undoubtedly littered the floors around him instead of his beloved wife and darling son.

She swallowed back the sob itching to escape her lips, desperate on not making a sound.

Her mind was taking a turn in the labyrinth it already was, taking her to unknown ends of painful scenarios her unyielding mind procures when she still doesn’t have the pieces to the whole story.

A creep of silence then went on for the benefit of both. Time for them to compose themselves before the once boisterous man continued.

‘The ambulance-’ he begins once more, though demurely ‘-arrived quickly. And they took him to the hospital immediately, seeing the state he was. Even the doctors didn’t know what was happening to him, but they gave him morphine for the pain.’ He somewhat assures and it relieves her a bit knowing he wasn’t in pain anymore. ‘They let him rest for a bit before they took him for tests. He’s resting now though. They’re keeping him for the night under observation but there was talk that the stay might be indefinite until they figured out what was wrong. Just in case another attack happened but you know him’ he teases lightly, not wanting to drown in the dampening mood this whole conversation, hell this whole ordeal has taken and neither did she so, she appreciates the lightening.

And she also knew what he meant. Her husband hated hospitals. Even stepping one foot inside churned his insides enough and being a patient? We’ll she knew enough to give her an idea of what happened.

It didn’t help her to think of his reaction to being told that he had to stay the night. Scared as he might have already been, the prospect of staying even longer undoubtedly terrified him and thus she concluded that he refused the longer stay.

Thinking of it, the only time he was at some sort of ease while in the hospital was when they took baby Leo for his newborn check up and even then he was anxious. The check-up had been a necessary. Just to assure the new parents that their little one was alright and properly checked on since a homebirth lacked that formality. The man himself had been the one to insist on the homebirth and Emma didn’t object to that, wanting to give the man a sort of peace as they brought their child to the world. His fears only eased once the doctor told them that everything is just as it should be about their newborn and there and only then did he relax as he rejoice on the fact that they had a health baby boy.

That clued her enough of his fear of hospitals and that information didn’t help her at all now.

‘The doctors are coming back in the morning for the results but after that, he insists on leaving’ he continuous to inform her, wary of her lack of response.

She hasn’t said anything since the start of his recount. Not a sound could be heard from her end of the line, and it unnerve him, making him check to see if the call was still on and it was. It took him a few good minutes, but he deduced why she was so silent.

He knew his sister well and the things he’s regaled to her… he just knew it was breaking her being apart.

‘Emma’ he called out, wanting to be sure he was still taking to someone. ‘you still there?’

‘yah’ she muttered, barely audible but he heard.

She had sunken to the floor, leaning against the counters as she pulled her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she silently cried. Her phone still sat atop the island, her call with her brother-in-law still ongoing yet there she was, listening, tears running her cheeks as she listened to him describe the torment her beloved endured.

‘He needs you now’ the man murmurs, pleading for his brother’s sake that she come back. He knew his little brother wouldn’t take it if these pains continued on and he feared the day he would give up. And without the person he loves most, the person that had been his solace long before, his rock and home, he is terrified of that end coming too soon.

The woman could only swallow at the man’s words before clamping a hand on her mouth and burying her head to her knees as an unrelenting sob escapes her. She had no control of it and the others that followed but she did have control of how loud they would come to so she did her best to make as little sound as she possibly could.

Try as she did though, Thor heard her. Muffled as it was, he knew that sound better than he liked to admit and not once did his heart break not break for her every time.

‘just… please come back’ he begs her once more, intending to end the call and leave her to some privacy. He stays on for a bit longer and just as he was about to press the end button, she called out to him, saying his name in an unsteady voice, congested and clear that she had been crying.

Two days she wanted to say. Give her two days and she would do everything she could to be there as soon as possible but what left her mouth wasn’t so. ‘Take care of him for me’ she pleads her own, on the brink of another fit of sobs but she held on till the call ended.

‘Always’ he responds before ending the call and with that her resolve crumbles.

Once again, her hand flies to cover her mouth, going in to cover and muffle the onslaught of sobs she had no hope of controlling but… they never came. Whether it was for some preservation for Leo’s deep sleep or her sudden inability to, they never come. What took its place though was a rush of tears and a heavy heart.

Leaning back on the limewashed cupboards, she let her tears run and her heart sink for she thought she deserved it. The guilt eating at her from the inside. Churning her stomach to knots and crushing her heart to shreds. It manipulated her. Turning her to the villain at the heart of this mess when she had done nothing but protect herself and her son from the tragedy that was once a happy family.

Her mind was a cruel and fickle thing. Making her believe the lies it comes up with and without the one person who knew how to lead her out of the labyrinth, she was lost. Facing every new dreaded possibility at every dead end without escape or clue on how to get out because the person that always led her to the exit, became the reason she was lost and missed it.

She didn’t blame him though. Despite what the others do, not once did she blame the poor tortured soul of her husbands’ because how could she. She could have helped him and stayed by him, just as she vowed but breaking that promise lost her the right to blame, not that she would.

In sickness and in health… clearly she didn’t hold her promise on that.

She drew her knees back to her chest, letting her heart wrench while a hand rose to reach for the bottle of wine that still sat on the bench. Once she got that down, Emma took a big swig right out of the bottle, never minding the glass she used before. Her only goal. To suffer and hope she’d be numb enough to stop the tears from flowing.

And that’s how she spent the rest of the night. Sat on the kitchenette floor of her suite, back against the cupboards as she let her tears dry out while burning a bottles’ worth of wine through her liver, letting her guilt and sorrow drape over her as it would a child under a tablecloth on Halloween.

(Next Chapter) -(Chapter List) - (Main Masterlist)

[potatowithahat]

Together for all time

A loki x Mobius fic in which the two finally confront there feelings for one another.

Loki had the power to see all of time,  but that doesn't necessarily mean he's going to use it.

It wasn't mobius as a person thought.  He could watch Mobius's variant Don no problem.  Actually,  Loki liked watching Don.  It was nice, like getting to see his friend grow old and raise his kids. But deep down Loki knew it wasn't his Mobius.  Sure he acted, sounded and looked like Mobius,  but Don just wasn't the same. Don had no clue who Loki was, and that hurt.  Something about knowing that he'll never be able to feel what His Mobius feels,  never got the chance to mourn the loss of loki.

      And He did not care for it.  He did not care for it at all. 

       One day, during this mopping session loki so often had, something changed.  

       There was someone else entering the time-line.  Someone whose temporal aura was all too familiar to Loki. 

        Mobius.  And not Don-Mobius, Actual Mobius.  His Mobius. Loki shifts in his seat silently trying to get a better look at the time-line. 

        And as sure as Loki is a god, Mobius was there. He looked just as grief stricken as Loki was, the pain and hurt radiating from that beautiful face of his. It hurt Loki too, but there was a small part of him that was overjoyed by seeing his Mobius again.  He felt terrible for him, but seeing Mobius just as hung up as Loki made his heart swell.

        He had chosen to go back, chosen to watch his previous life. Though he knew Mobius couldn't sense it they were both looking at the same time-line. a part of Loki still felt comfort in the fact.  He wished nothing more then to reach out and pluck Mobius from the time-line, pull him into a long hug and whisper all the words and praise pent up in loki's overflowing brain.

       He couldn't Though… Mobius would hate it, being Isolated out here with loki. Besides,  he didn't even know if it was possible.  Could Mobius survive out here? He'd dissolve into the threads of time, loki knew that. But still…

       If He Who Remains managed to make the TV safe from all this temporal energy… maybe there was a way. Maybe he could have his Mobius. And loki could always send him back. It would take time though.  So much time. But if it meant he could speak to Mobius,  hug him, see him again….

     Well that was a risk Loki was willing to take. 

     No, that was a risk Loki was going to take.

_______________________________________________

This ones a lot shorter then I would've liked, but I have big plans for this fic in the future.

For now, as always you can find more of my work on my Ao3 page or here on my Tumblr account.

I am also always taking requests! I love to here all of yalls ideas!!!

[mischief-lies-and-stories]

So I'm Writing a (Somewhat) MCU-Compliant Loki/Sigyn Fanfic

And it's possible that by the time this post goes up, I will have completed and published the fic. (I'm really hoping this does not cause me to procrastinate.) I desperately want to talk about it, but I also don't want to risk talking about stuff that ends up getting cut when I revise, and like I said, the more I draw attention to it publicly, to more my brain historically likes to shy away from actually finishing it.

So instead I'm both queueing this for hopefully a date after it's already been published or close to publication, and instead of talking about it, I'm going to post my playlist for it. This is pretty strictly fic vibes, so it's not necessarily 100% relevant to the plot and many songs likely don't sync up to the more widely fandom-accepted headcanons for the ship.

Sleeping Sickness, by City and Colour: This is the song I was listening to when I conceived of the fic idea (which is pretty incredible, because I haven't been able to listen to City and Colour for like a decade, so I usually skip it when it comes on. (Bad break-up+inability to remember which C&C song really fucks me up = 10 years of skipping all C&C songs.) I was distracted by Loki/Sigyn posts and let the song play.) So the working plan is the fic title is going to come from one of the lyrics, but I haven't decided which lyric yet.

Forget Me Not, by The Civil Wars

Devil In Your Eye, by Mumford & Sons

Wait for Me, from Hadestown

Cherry Wine, by Hozier

Work Song, by Hozier

Stuck, by Imagine Dragons

Would That I, by Hozier

Let Me Dream a While, by Passenger

And I Love Her, by Passenger

All the Stars, by The Wailin' Jennys

That's all the songs I have on the playlist so far. Have fun trying to guess the fic plot from these songs, I guess? Some hints (unless I edit these out, I suppose), if you want them, because I can't help myself:

Current progression of the fic begins just after Thor: The Dark World and ends roughly after Thor: Love and Thunder.

Odin is probably at his worst in this, out of all my portrayals of him.

Loki the tv show does not come into play, but the fic closes a plot hole I've noticed around Loki's abilities in Loki versus Ragnarok.

[k1tk4ttt]

How it feel to finally accept and embrace the cringe of reading x reader fics

[jiimeniita]